


City of Love

by NerdyPanda3126



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Chance Meetings, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Human Kwami, LBSC Exchange 2021, Mentioned Juleka Couffaine, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyPanda3126/pseuds/NerdyPanda3126
Summary: Marinette and Luka are both hosting foreign exchange students. Although there was no way they could've predicted that the students they're hosting are already in a long-distance relationship and they're taking this chance to meet up for the first time.When Luka and Marinette get dragged into coming along, how could they not end up talking, laughing, falling in love...Wait, what was that last one?
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 42
Kudos: 40
Collections: 2021 Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crescent_woods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescent_woods/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day and happy birthday crescent_woods!! I'm your Secret Admirer! 😁
> 
> The prompt that I chose was: "They both host foreign exchange students who are dating, and end up getting dragged along on their dates and fall in LoOoOve" 
> 
> Or rather, that prompt chose me because this thing took off and ran with me trailing along behind and hoping I can keep up 😅 I hope you like it! 
> 
> As a side note: because there's a bit of a language barrier, there will be minimal French used throughout with definitions provided in-line and in the end notes, but the characters are speaking English unless otherwise mentioned. (I'm not a native French speaker. If I've made mistakes, please let me know!)

Marinette paced by the door of her apartment, waiting for her new roommate to arrive. She had offered to go to the airport to pick her up, but the woman—Tikki, that was her name—had insisted she could find her own way. Marinette was clutching her phone, waiting for the inevitable call. Paris was confusing, after all, for those not familiar with it, and it was so easy to get lost, and what if she couldn’t make it? 

Just as she was starting to bite her fingernails, there was a knock at her door and Marinette ran to it, flinging it open to find a small woman—shorter than Marinette, even, which was quite a feat—in a bright red sundress with black polka dots and a huge sun hat big enough that the brim flopped over her face. When the sun hat tipped up, Tikki had gorgeous, wide blue eyes, and a black pixie fringe with red feathery highlights peeking out.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, out of breath from carrying her bags up the many stairs to the apartment. Marinette nodded and Tikki squealed, dropping her bags to the floor, all fatigue seemingly forgotten as she swept Marinette up into a hug. She smelled like something sweet, although Marinette couldn’t place it. Some sort of pastry, maybe? She started yammering in rushed English, her sprawling American accent making some of the words run together in Marinette’s ears. 

“I just know we’re going to be the best of friends! I’m so glad I made it, those streets are so windy, you know, windy, like—” she made a motion with her hand, like a snake, back and forth—“but there was this nice man who pointed me in the right direction and—oh, désolée!” When she slipped into French, the tiniest hint of her accent remained. “J’ai oublié, this is supposed to be immersive, n’est-ce pas?” 

Marinette was taken aback, but smiled at the mashup of language. “C’est vrai,” she agreed, “but English is fine for now.” She stooped to grab Tikki’s bags for her, but Tikki smacked Marinette’s hand away and picked everything back up herself. Marinette almost giggled at the ridiculous contrast between the tiny woman and the wealth of luggage she’d brought. Tikki was stronger than she looked, though, because the weight didn’t seem to bother her a bit. 

“Your room is this way,” Marinette said, gesturing as she walked, intending for Tikki to follow her. On the way, she pointed out the kitchen and the bathroom they’d share. Tikki ooh’ed and aah’ed enthusiastically at everything, then squealed again when they got to the room Marinette had laid out for her and instantly dumped her bags on the bed and opened the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. 

In the smaller space, the scent surrounding Tikki was more concentrated and Marinette finally placed it. Cookies. Tikki smelled like chocolate chip cookies. It pulled Marinette back to living above the bakery with her parents. How was she the one that was homesick? Tikki was an entire ocean away from her family and would be for the next few months. 

Although Marinette's homesickness was rather the point of her signing up to host a foreign exchange student for the fall semester. She'd spent the spring semester looking for busy places to go so she could draw or study; her apartment was too quiet when she was used to living above a bustling bakery and with her parents. But it was her first year at University and she was determined to make it work. When she pulled herself out of her thoughts, Tikki was still looking out the window with absolute awe written across her delicate features. She started when she noticed Marinette watching her.

“Everything is so pretty here!” she gushed. “How do you say it? Jolly?” 

“Jolie,” Marinette corrected kindly, emphasizing the ‘ee’ sound at the end.

“Right, c’est trés jolie.” Tikki repeated carefully with a flounce of her hands. “I want to see absolutely everything.” 

Marinette did giggle at that. She supposed Paris was pretty, when it wasn’t something you saw every day. Tikki’s enthusiasm was infectious. 

“I was planning to take you out to lunch, if you wanted to go? There’s this little place—”

Tikki flopped her sun hat down on the bed and unzipped one of the smaller bags to pull out a crossbody purse and a pair of black flats. She ruffled the short ends of her hair, fluffing them on top where they’d gotten flattened by her hat, unfolded a pair of sunglasses and set them on top of her head like a headband, and grinned at Marinette. 

“Allons-y!”

* * *

Luka tapped his foot along with the music in his earbuds as he waited for the exchange student he’d be hosting to get off the plane. No thanks to Juleka, he had a picture to go off of and that was it. Although he assumed this guy had a picture of Luka and would be looking for him, too. 

He flicked through his phone absent-mindedly, keeping one eye on the gate. Juleka had been texting him the entire time, asking questions he couldn’t answer and telling him to be nice. This was all her idea; quite frankly he was a bit anxious about the whole thing. 

He was expected to chauffeur this guy around the city and show him all the French culture and, as Juleka had so kindly pointed out, _“It’s not like you have anything else going on.”_

“You need to make _friends_ ,” she’d wheedled near the end of the spring semester, shoving the brochure in his face.

“Friends that are forced to hang out with me and then leave after a semester? Yeah, sounds awesome.” He’d ripped the brochure out of her hands and thrown it back at her, but she didn’t give up. 

“Come on, all you do is go to that stupid club and whine about not being in a band yet! You should be breaking out of your shell, isn’t that what Uni is all about?”

“I don’t have a shell,” he’d muttered as he stuck his earbuds in. Juleka had rolled her eyes at him, but picked the brochure up from the floor and left it on top of his music theory book. She’d given him a pointed look as she flounced out the door. 

And then she went and signed herself up as a host for the fall semester anyways without telling him, somehow making it his job to pick their new roommate up from the airport. _“Because you’re the one with the motorcycle,”_ Juleka had reasoned. And of course he had to stay in Luka’s room with him, because _“he’s a guy, and so are you.”_

Whatever. It was one semester. How bad could it be? 

The guy who matched the picture ended up being the last one off the plane, and Luka wrapped his earbuds around his phone before stashing it in his pocket. As Luka’s new roommate strolled up, he had one bag on his shoulder, one rolling behind him, as if he were on vacation instead of about to stay in someone else’s home for the next few months. He was a head shorter than Luka, with russet skin and sleek black hair, pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He took one look at Luka, adjusted his bag on his shoulder, and walked towards the airport door. 

It took Luka a second to process what had happened before he was jogging after a great view of the guy’s shoulders straining against his teal T-shirt. What the hell was his problem? 

“Hé! Attendez,” Luka grabbed at his backpack and the guy turned with an unamused frown deepening by the second. “Uh, salut?” Luka stuck his hand out for a handshake, but deep brown eyes underneath heavy black brows just flashed down to Luka’s hand, then back up to his face. 

“Anglais?” he asked, drawing out his ‘s’ the slightest amount. Luka nodded. “Cool. Look, I’m only here because my girlfriend had her heart set on ‘Paris,’ okay?” He rolled his eyes as he made air quotes and pronounced it “Pari.” He shrugged, adjusting his bag on his shoulder again in the same movement. “I’m not here to make friends, I couldn’t care less about discovering your culture, and I don’t plan on being around much. So, thanks, but no thanks, you know?” 

The way he was pronouncing his “th” as a soft “t” and the subtle lilt to his voice, added to the consistently drawn out sibilants gave him a serpentine accent that made Luka pause before he realized what he’d actually said. 

“Your girlfriend?” How was it that this guy had just shown up in the country—with a bad attitude, no less—and already had a girlfriend? A scowl started to pinch Luka’s face although he had little motivation to stop himself. No way he could be friends with this smug little shit. 

Said smug little shit nodded, although his shoulders shrugged along with the movement, making him look like he was a cobra assessing whether to strike or not. “Tikki. We’ve been long-distance for a while. Pen pals, you know? Decided to come here, meet up, see the sights. She’s a bit of a Francophile, you know what I mean?” 

Luka blinked at him. He’d joined a foreign exchange program, flown who knew how many miles, would be staying away from home for months… for a girl? He hadn’t met yet? Was he insane? He shook his head in sympathy and shoved his hands in his pockets. “All right, well I’m Luka.” 

“Yeah, I gathered. Are you gonna show me the way to your place, or what?” He turned again and started back for the door. This time Luka was able to keep in step with him. 

“You got a name?” Luka asked, only slightly irritated by his apparent dismissal. 

“Not a French one. How about you just decide on something and I’ll answer to whatever.” 

“How about ‘ass’?” Luka grumbled. 

“What was that?” 

“Sass. I said ‘Sass,’” Luka amended quickly. 

He stopped again and leveled a look at Luka, narrowing his eyes to little more than dangerous slits. “Weird, but sure,” he said finally, adjusting his grip on his bag again. “So are we walking or what?”

Luka dug his keys out of his pocket and flashed the lights on his bike. It was an older model Yamaha; sporty, reliable, slim enough to wind through the narrow streets of Paris on deliveries, with an extra seat behind the driver for the times Juleka needed a ride. He’d bought it used and kept good care of it, other than the fading midnight-blue paint job. And the brakes. And the sputter it made when it started up. He'd meant to get that into the shop sometime soon. 

For the first time, Sass cracked a smile. “Now that I can work with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> désolée: sorry  
> J’ai oublié: I forgot  
> n’est-ce pas: is it not  
> C’est vrai: it is true (that's right)  
> Jolie: pretty  
> c’est trés jolie: it's very pretty  
> Allons-y: let's go  
> Hé! Attendez: Hey! Wait  
> salut: hi  
> Anglais: English


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tikki insists that she won't meet Sass without bringing Marinette along, and of course she also insists that Luka should come along, too, so Marinette doesn't feel like a third wheel.

Luka was lying down on his bed with his notebook splayed across his thighs as he blared white noise in his headphones and stared at his bedroom ceiling. There was a cobweb in the corner blowing softly in the breeze from their open windows and instead of focusing on writing music he found himself thinking that he’d never even seen the spider that made that web. A shiver ran through him. Blech. Spiders. Missing spiders, especially. 

He was supposed to be working on an original song for his composition class. The professor had given them the assignment over the summer, “to get an idea of where you’re at,” the assignment had read, and for weeks Luka had stared at the blank sheet music and… absolutely nothing came to him. 

Creating wasn’t really the problem; he’d always been creative. He’d always been fond of letting things come to him while his guitar was in his hands, but he’d never tried to write it down. He’d never cared if it was good or not. He’d never tried to create for a grade. He groaned and ripped his earbuds out to toss everything aside and sat up. 

And found Sass leaning into the doorway with his eyebrows raised incredulously. 

“What?” Luka snapped. 

He wasn’t even sure he could call Sass his roommate. He’d barely even seen him for the week he’d been there. Although what he could’ve been doing was beyond Luka. He didn’t know the city, he hadn’t started classes yet, there was nowhere for him to go and nothing for him to do except see his girlfriend. And as far as Luka knew, they hadn’t managed to meet up yet. 

“Rough day?” Sass smirked and walked over to sit down on his flimsy foldaway bed across from Luka. 

Luka wiped a hand over his face and cursed in French under his breath. “What do you want?” 

“Want? Why do I have to want anything? Can’t I ask you how your day is going?” 

“You’ve hardly spoken to me since I picked you up at the airport.” Luka rolled his eyes and flopped back on his bed. “So I doubt you actually care.” 

Sass hummed, in agreement or in thought Luka couldn’t tell. “You need to get out of here.” 

Luka turned his head to look at Sass and quirked an eyebrow. 

“I’m serious, staring at four blank walls, that’s your problem right there. You need to get out, get some air, meet some people.” 

“You’re worse than Juleka,” Luka muttered darkly. “You don’t even know what my problem is.” 

“I know boiling in self-loathing won’t get you anywhere. Lucky for you I have the solution. A night out with me and two amazing women.” He made a wide “voilà” motion with his arms, like he had just finished a stunning magic trick. 

Luka scowled at him, his suspicion growing. “What do you need me for? Two amazing women, just keep them for yourself.” 

“Well, one is for me, but the other…” he raised his eyebrows suggestively. When Luka kept scowling, Sass sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine. Tikki is refusing to meet me unless her host is with her. And she’s insisting I invite you, too.” 

Luka’s scowl split into a smirk. “Oh, so you need a _favor_ , that’s what this is about.” 

“Yes, I need a favor.” When Sass was annoyed, his sibilants drew out into hisses, which amused Luka to no end. Sass rolled his eyes. “So will you come?” 

“What happened to ‘I don’t need you, I don’t need your country, I’m too cool for this shit’?” Luka said, mimicking Sass’s subtle lyrical accent. 

“You don’t have to be an ass about it. Will you come or not?” 

“I absolutely do have to be an ass about it.” Luka grinned and sat up, savoring the way Sass’s scales were getting all ruffled. He could practically see the irritation roiling off his shoulders. “What if I don’t go? What happens then?” 

“Then I tell your sister you’re being an awful host.” Sass’s dark eyes flashed as he bared his teeth in a wicked grin. “And she might decide to come along and make sure you make it up to me.”

Luka’s scowl returned. Sass had him pinned, and he knew it. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go. But I’m picking the place. If I’m being forced out of the house, I’m at least going somewhere I’ll have fun.”

Sass shrugged and smiled down at his phone as he shot off a text, before he stood and stretched. “It’s settled, then. Let’s go.” 

“What, now?” 

“Yeah, now, what other time would we go?” Sass undid his ponytail and kept the band in his mouth as he redid it, recapturing the strands that had fallen out to frame his face. Now that Luka was looking at him, he was wearing a form-fitting olive green henley that set off his dark features well, along with dark wash jeans and black converse. Not exactly dressed to go out, but definitely dressed for an admiring female gaze. 

He looked down at himself, at the ratty blue hoodie with chewed on strings, pit-stained white band shirt, and knee-less black skinny jeans he was wearing. For the hole in the wall he had in mind, it wouldn’t be out of place, but for meeting “two amazing women,” maybe not the best option. He ran a hand over the dark stubble on his cheek and through his hair he hadn’t even run a brush through today. 

Sass rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll meet you out by your bike. 20 minutes, yeah?” He stood and offered his phone to Luka. “Wanna plug in the address?” 

Luka took the phone from him, noting the contact picture of a young woman with a black and red pixie haircut blowing a kiss. Must be Tikki. He shrugged and typed in the name of the club he frequented and the address before he spun it on his palm to hand it back to Sass. 

Sass left without another word and Luka pulled himself up to see if he could figure out what to wear. Not that it mattered; the club would be loud enough that he wouldn’t have to talk to whoever came along anyways. Which made it absolutely perfect. 

* * *

“He said yes!” Tikki cried as she burst into Marinette’s room and flopped down next to her on the bed, triumphantly shoving her phone into Marinette’s hands. 

“Your boyfriend? Of course he did.” Marinette was smiling as Tikki started chattering away, but her smile disappeared as she scrolled through the text chain. The text chain about meeting up tonight, but only if Marinette came along. Tikki’s insistence that it should be a group outing, that her boyfriend’s host should come along, too, so Marinette wasn’t left alone. 

She gaped at Tikki. “You set me up with someone?” 

“No, no, no,” Tikki rushed to reassure her, taking her phone back and clutching it to her chest, “not a set up! Just… someone to talk to in case I kinda disappear.” 

“Isn’t the point of me coming so that you don’t disappear?” Marinette lifted an eyebrow. 

Tikki’s phone pinged with an incoming message and Tikki’s face scrunched in concentration as she checked it. “He sent me an address and said 20 minutes. Do you know this place?” 

She showed her screen again and Marinette couldn’t help but groan. Not only at the concept of getting ready to go out in 20 minutes, but also at the club name. 

“I’ve been there before. Once. On a date.” 

A date that went horribly wrong. He hadn't said anything about being a famous model, or that the press might be following him, or that he had a fiancée that might see him dancing with her in the papers the next day and might decide to stalk Marinette for the next few months. And when the paparazzi had swarmed the tiny club, he’d gotten startled and spilled her entire bright pink cocktail down the front of her white dress. One of her favorites, too. She frowned at the memory of the fiasco. She hadn’t been back since, and she'd sworn off dating to boot. 

“We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.” Tikki’s enthusiastic glow visibly dimmed. 

She’d told Marinette a little about the guy she’d been seeing. They’d been long-distance for so long and Paris was halfway for both of them, so they figured they’d meet up, see how it went. Of course that wasn’t the only reason she was there, Tikki had assured Marinette, she’d always wanted to go to Paris. But meeting her boyfriend was definitely part of the plan and Marinette did worry about Tikki being safe. She said she knew him, that they’d been talking forever and she knew what he looked like and he would never hurt her. But it also never hurt to have a backup plan in situations like this. 

Marinette sighed. “Of course we’re going.” She glanced over Tikki’s loose staying-home outfit for the day and smirked. “But not in that. Hang on.” 

Marinette hopped up and ran over to her closet. “I was saving this for a rainy day.” She flicked through her hangers to find it. The perfect little black dress. A deep v-neck that plunged to where the fabric nipped in at the waist, a flirty skirt that floated away and landed gently just above the knee. Tikki would _kill_ in it with her adorable pixie frame. Marinette showed it to her and delighted in the way her eyes lit up. 

“But what about you?” Tikki asked. 

Marinette shrugged. “It’s not really about me, is it?” She grinned and tossed the dress at Tikki before turning back to select a light pink tank top, a gray leather jacket and a pair of distressed skinny jeans. She shrugged as she laid them out on the bed and Tikki frowned. 

“What if you like this guy?” 

Marinette rolled her eyes and bent down to grab a pair of strappy black heels. She raised her eyebrows at Tikki as she added them to the pile. “Et voilà.” 

This time, Tikki grinned and ran off to her room, clutching the dress to her chest. Marinette shook her head. As long as it was a one-time thing, she didn’t mind coming along for the night. Whoever this mysterious guy was, one thing was for sure. He was in the same boat she was. So she’d make nice, for Tikki’s sake, and hope for the best. If she hated him, she’d never have to see him again. If she liked him… 

Well, that was maybe assuming too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et voilà: And there it is


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette and Tikki meet Luka and Sass at the club Luka picked. It's not an ideal place for talking, but that might be what makes it perfect.

The music greeted Marinette and Tikki first as they descended the steps to the basement club; the bassline buzzed along the floor and into the soles of their shoes, and it only grew in intensity as they got closer to the door. 

As soon as they were inside, the music made it impossible for anything to be heard. That didn’t stop Tikki from squealing the moment she caught sight of someone. She ran towards a guy who took one look at her and broke into a wide, bright grin—made even brighter by the UV lights that illuminated the dance floor—and leapt into his arms. Marinette wasn’t sure who was happier, Tikki or her boyfriend. His eyes raked over her as he set her back on her feet and he leaned down to say something in Tikki’s ear, then grinned again as he pulled her deeper into the heart of the crowd towards the stage. 

Marinette hovered awkwardly at the door. She wasn’t sure who she was supposed to be meeting. Her only liaison had effectively vanished. She scanned the crowd for someone else who looked like they might be waiting for someone, but everyone was turned away, focused on the band that was playing their hearts out on stage. 

That is, until she noticed someone near the edge of the crowd trying to catch her eye. He lifted a hand in greeting and waved her over. He was tall, and the tips of his hair glowed electric blue under the UV light. He was wearing mostly black, although the purposeful rips along the chest and arms of his lightweight sweater that bared his undershirt were bright blue, too. As she hesitated, he waved her over again and the bass from the band pounded uncomfortably in her chest with each step she took closer to him. 

“Marinette, right?” He leaned down to make himself heard. Marinette nodded, and he stuck his hand out for a handshake, pointing to himself at the same time. “Luka.” 

As she put her hand in his, his long, slender fingers wrapped around hers easily. He had rough calluses that brushed against the skin of her wrist. He shook her hand once, then grinned at her. She didn’t miss the way his eyes flashed under the lights as he looked her over appreciatively. 

Just then, the band hit a particularly rough riff that exploded over the dance floor. Marinette winced at the noise and Luka’s smile slipped a notch. He dug in his pocket to produce a pair of ear plugs and offered them to her. When she looked back up at him hesitantly, he shrugged and leaned down until his mouth was next to her ear again. 

“Helps,” he said over the music, making a wrapping motion with his free hand. 

Even though his voice was raised, it was still low and smooth, like he was used to communicating like this. Then again, she thought as she accepted the ear plugs, he did pick the place.

With the ear plugs in, she had to admit the level of noise was more bearable, but she could still hear the band, could still feel the bass. She nodded at Luka and gave him a thumbs up and he grinned at her as he set a hand on his chest and thumped it along to the beat before he started moving along with it. 

Marinette hid a giggle behind her hand. He danced like a _dork._ What was he even doing with his hands, trying to karate chop the air or pretend to be a DJ? But he was right, she could still feel the music reverberating through her chest, and she was drawn into moving along with it. Along with him. Despite his dance moves, he had great rhythm, and she found herself following his lead, mirroring his movements, and laughing more than she had in a long time. 

When someone behind her bumped into her, throwing her into him, his hand curled protectively around her hip, shielding her and catching her at once. He glanced down at her and raised his eyebrows and somehow she understood him. Checking on her to make sure she was okay. She nodded and he went to pull his hand away. 

Which is when Marinette realized she liked having it there. Boldly, she caught his hand and pressed it back to her. His eyebrows rose again, in disbelief this time instead of concern, but it was quickly replaced by a relaxed smile and he pulled her closer to dance with her again. 

She slid her hands up his chest to clasp around his neck and his arm wrapped around her low back and flexed against her. She could feel the music pounding through his chest now as well as her own. It became readily apparent that he knew perfectly well how to dance with a partner like this. His eyes didn't leave hers as he pressed his hips against hers, matching her rhythm, following her and leading her all at once. 

She didn’t notice the time passing until suddenly she realized the crowd had gotten much more dense and she had no idea where Tikki was. She froze, and Luka froze with her. When he noticed her eyes scanning the crowd, he pulled out his phone and typed out a text. His phone lit up with the response almost instantly and he showed it to Marinette. Tikki was fine; they’d gone outside for some air. 

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Luka’s hand caught hers and he rubbed his thumb against her wrist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but with the instant panic and the crowd and the noise it was too much. She pulled her hand away from his and gestured awkwardly to the door, trying to tell him she needed some air, too. He nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. 

As soon as she was out the door, the cool, fresh air hit her nose and the sweat on her neck and she felt the pressure of the crowd lift. She pulled the ear plugs out and realized how beautiful and fragile quiet could be. 

“Ça va?” Luka asked as he helped her sit on one of the stairs. 

All she could do was nod. 

“Sorry, I know it’s a lot in there.” 

“No, no, it’s fine. I just…” She let a laugh escape her. “I haven’t been out like this in a while. I’d forgotten.” 

He hummed in thought and sat next to her, leaning his shoulder against hers good-naturedly. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it, but I used to be the same. I had panic attacks every time I stepped in the door.”

“Why’d you keep coming, then?” 

He shrugged. “I love the music. And they have an open mic here. I guess I keep hoping…” He chuckled and bumped his shoulder into hers. “But it’s not really important. I’m sorry I didn’t think about the noise.” 

“You did, though.” She bumped him back and showed him the ear plugs. “These really helped.” 

There was a pause between them, and without the bass thumping through her ribs, she could feel him breathing steadily beside her. She stole a glance at him and he was watching her out of the corner of his eye while pretending to study the streetlamps above them. Like he didn’t want to embarrass her, he wanted to give her space, but he was also still worried about her. 

“So, what are you going to University for?” Marinette tried, lamely, to start a conversation.

He chuckled. “Music composition major. I know. Pretty useless thing to go to Uni for. But…” 

“Almost as useless as an art major,” she teased, bumping her shoulder against his again. He darted a glance over at her, and she noticed him lick his lips as a nervous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“You're right, art majors are definitely the more useless of the two.” He smirked at her and she shoved him away playfully. He was laughing as his shoulder tipped back to press against hers. 

"Jerk," she muttered, although she couldn't stop her smile. His laugh was bright and open, easy, and she leaned into him maybe more than she needed to. 

Still chuckling, he turned and caught her eye and she realized for the first time how close she was sitting to him. How close their faces were. He seemed to realize it at about the same time. Her breath caught as he tilted over gently, leaning towards her, angling his head with every intent…

“There you are! Sass said you were looking for…” Tikki’s bright voice chirped as she rounded the corner. Luka pulled away, and Marinette turned to find Tikki hiding her shocked expression behind her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“You didn’t,” Marinette rushed to reassure her. She stood and brushed off the seat of her pants and Luka stood with her, albeit a second of two later. “We were just talking.” 

Tikki’s eyes glittered. “I was going to ask if you wanted to head out, but if you want to stay…” 

“No, no, head out, that’s… yeah, we should.” Marinette nodded and touched her fingers to her lips and turned back to Luka. He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded along with her. 

“Yeah, I’ll find Sass and we’ll head out, too.” He caught her eyes again and his gentle smile told her everything she needed to know. She blushed hard and turned abruptly, gripping Tikki’s wrist and leading her away. As Tikki struggled to keep up with Marinette’s rushed pace, she started to squeal and it grew in pitch with every step. 

“You like him!” Tikki gushed, and Marinette’s blush deepened. 

“How’d your thing go?” Marinette asked, half out of curiosity and half out of a need to change the subject. Tikki never failed to sigh and start waxing poetic about her boyfriend. But not tonight, it seemed, because Tikki squealed again and pulled back on Marinette’s hand to spin her around. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me all about it when we get back to the room?” 

She glanced back at the entrance of the club and Luka had left, maybe gone back inside, or maybe gone home with his roommate. She let the smile she’d been holding back spread across her face. “Je te promets. I’ll tell you everything.”

* * *

Luka watched as Marinette marched Tikki away down the sidewalk, then touched his fingers to his lips just as she had. What the hell was that? He’d danced with people here before, he’d dated a few in lyceé and at his University, but that… that was different. Magnetic, instant, intense. He shook his head as he went back down the steps to let himself back in the club. 

He did have a reason for coming here tonight, after all. The open mic. He’d been trying his luck here for months and he still hadn’t found a band that needed a guitarist, but he still held out hope. At the very least, he could get his name in people’s heads and if their guitarist quit, they’d have a replacement on the tip of their tongues. 

They called his name soon after Marinette left, and Luka wobbled up onto stage on unsteady knees. Sass was in front, with his arms crossed and an annoyed expression, although he seemed more like he was waiting to be proven right than anything else. Luka gave him a curt nod as he slung the guitar strap around his shoulders. He had no clue how right he'd been.

He started the same way he always did, closing his eyes and letting the room fade away until he could only feel what was inside him, letting his fingers drift over the fretboard without conscious direction. His heart was still pounding in his chest. His palms were cold, but sweaty at the same time. He could still feel the weight of her shoulder pressed against his. And he could not stop smiling. 

By the time he attacked his first riff, starting in on the cover he’d prepared for that night, he already had the first notes in his head for his original composition. And Sass’s self-satisfied smirk didn’t even bother him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ça va: How's it going? (Are you okay?)  
> Je te promets: I promise you
> 
> So I do feel a need to clarify: creative pursuits are absolutely not useless 💖 
> 
> I had a creative major in college and the question that I got all the time was, "What are you going to do with that?" usually asked with the same tone as Ladybug when she gets an incomprehensible Lucky Charm. So I just know it's something creative people hear all the time, especially when pursuing their passions at higher levels, and it's something these two characters would have in common pretty instantly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sass arranges to see Tikki again by arranging for Marinette to see Luka again.

“What have you done to my bike?” Luka asked, staring at Sass as he wiped the grease off his hands with a shop rag. He only shrugged back, although his smug smile betrayed how pleased he was.

“I fixed it."

"It doesn't look very fixed to me." 

"You did me a favor.” Sass gestured to the bike with the rag. “Seemed only fair to give your bike a second chance at life."

"But…" Luka pointed to his gas tank. "Isn't that supposed to be… qu'est-ce que c'est—" He snapped his fingers as his bewildered brain searched for the right word in English—"attaché? Attached?” 

Sass looked at the gas tank on the ground. "Oh, that. I called someone to fix the paint job. I'll put it back on when she's done." 

"She?" 

“She’ll be here soon, might wanna…” Sass gestured around himself and pointed to Luka again. “You know, clean up.” 

"Wait. You’ve only been here for like two weeks. How do you already know someone who can fix the paint job?" Sass raised his eyebrows and understanding crashed into Luka. "You did not call Marinette to come here and paint my bike." 

“I just want to see Tikki.” Sass shrugged, but Luka didn’t miss the gleam in his eyes. “The fact that Tikki is a package deal with your muse is of no consequence to me.” 

“She is not my muse.” 

“Did you or did you not write a song for her?”

“For a grade. Not for her. Just… after I met her.” 

“So for her.” 

Luka opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, and shut it again. He was getting pretty sick of Sass pinning him like this. 

“You gonna play it for her?” 

“No. I mean, maybe, I mean—” Luka’s ears got hot and he raked his hair over them before Sass could see. “I hadn’t planned on it.” 

“Hmm… I wonder if Juleka has any opinions on that.” 

“Don’t you dare tell her about this.” 

“Why not? She’s your sister, don’t you want to share things with her? Tell her you’ve met the love of your life? Start planning the wedding or whatever?” 

“Marinette’s not—”

“Hey, boys!” A bright, cheery voice chirped behind him in what was an unmistakable American accent Luka recognized from Sass’s phone calls that he always took on speaker, despite Luka’s many complaints. Tikki. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

Luka’s eyes widened and Sass’s smug grin slipped sideways. “Yeah, fancy that.” His eyes popped up to somewhere behind Luka and he turned and waved the shop towel. 

Luka raked his hands through his hair self-consciously. At least he was wearing a black shirt today. Maybe Marinette wouldn’t be able to tell how much he was sweating. Maybe he could pull off being cool and aloof. Even if his heart was hammering at twice its normal speed.

When he turned to look, the half-time his heart was already doing kicked up another notch and leapt into his throat, making it impossible for him to form words. Marinette had taken his breath away at the club already, but today she was wearing denim overalls over a paint-stained white T-shirt and her dark hair was tied up in a short ponytail with a pink bandana tied over it and it was too freaking adorable. She waved her kit at him bashfully, as if proving that she was there to paint the bike. 

Luka glanced back at Sass and his eyes were glued to Tikki. He’d seen Sass in a few different moods by now, most of them subtle variations of pissed off, but smitten was a new look on him. Tikki squealed and Luka caught a flash of her black pixie haircut as she flew past him and nestled into Sass’s side. His arm fell casually around her and he steered her towards the apartment easily, claiming a need to clean up. Luka gaped at his retreating figure and glanced at Marinette nervously before his brain caught up to what was happening. 

“Snake!” Luka called after Sass. He lifted his arm off Tikki’s shoulder to flip Luka off as they walked away. 

He jumped when he noticed Marinette was watching him with something akin to disappointment.

“Sorry, um… sorry. I just—” He chuckled and raked his hair over his ears again. “I had no idea you were coming—I mean, he didn’t tell me—I mean—nom de dieu...” If his brain would stop short-circuiting just because an insanely cute girl was nearby that would be incredibly helpful. He took a quick breath in and let it out slowly to calm himself. “I didn’t know he’d called you and asked you to do this.” 

Marinette let out a small giggle and shrugged. “Tikki was so excited to see him again, and he said he’d pay me to paint. How can I turn that down?” She tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear—to no effect as it was too short to stay there and it fell gently back into place—and blushed when she looked back at him. 

“Well, I mean, if you don’t want to paint, it’s okay, you don’t have to.” 

"Gives me a chance to use my useless art major," she teased and the memory of their almost kiss made Luka's tongue entirely incapable of speech. 

There was an awkward pause between them before Luka gestured to the gas tank that was lying forlorn, separated from the bike, on the ground. She tucked her hair behind her ear again and crouched to take a look, and he felt it when she shifted into a focused zone. She ran her hand over the gas tank and frowned when her hand came away with flaking paint chips. 

"Anything in particular? Or do you just want to keep it this dark blue?" 

"Go crazy," he said, despite his uncooperative tongue. She turned to raise her eyebrows at him and he nodded to confirm. "Really. Whatever you want." 

She stood and turned to face him. "As great as a blank slate is, it's still yours. Maybe there's something personal of yours I can look at? Get an idea?" 

"Bien sûr, yeah, hang on. Just… stay right there." He gave her a lopsided grin and traced Sass's steps into the apartment. As he picked up his electric guitar, Sass raised his eyebrows and Luka rolled his eyes, although he couldn't hide his own smitten grin, and flipped him off in return before he dashed back out. 

* * *

As he placed the guitar in her hands, Marinette was most surprised by the weight of it. He handled it so easily, but it was heavier than it looked. There was a curve of black on one side of it and the piece under the strings was white. She glanced up at him before she picked at a string and a dull, dead note sounded. It wasn't much by way of inspiration. She shrugged and handed it back to him. 

"I have to take the old paint off first. Maybe something will come to me before I start painting." 

She sat next to the gas tank and pulled out her kit. Sass had laid out the condition of the bike beforehand and she'd done her research and borrowed some spray paint from her friend Alix, but she hadn't ever painted something like this. In fact, she’d even told Sass as much, and recommended Alix for her expertise, but Sass was insistent. She knew it was an excuse to see Tikki, and she didn’t begrudge him that, but it still felt like she shouldn’t be here. Although she didn’t know how much of that was about seeing Luka again rather than inexperience with spray painting. 

She shook her hands out to get rid of the shakes that were setting in. First time for everything. It wouldn’t be that much different than painting on a canvas, she reminded herself. Get the primer and base coat down with the spray paint, and then she could detail it out with her brushes. As she unpacked the sandpaper and paints she’d brought, she looked up at him again.

“So, you play guitar?” 

He chuckled and nodded as he tucked the guitar into himself, bracing his foot against the wall of the building to prop it against his thigh. He started picking at the strings as he placed his fingers on the fretboard, seemingly absent-mindedly, although it had a definite melody behind it if she listened carefully. 

"I guess she doesn't seem like much, at least not like this,” he said. “Once she's hooked up though, she really sings." 

"She?" Marinette raised her eyebrows. He hummed in assent, entirely unfazed by the question. His attention had been absorbed as soon as the instrument was back in his hands. It gave her a chance to look at him properly for the first time. 

When she’d danced with him the other night, she’d noticed he was lean underneath the baggy black sweater he’d worn, but today his black band T-shirt was hugging against him, making it strikingly obvious that the muscles she’d felt moving underneath her hands were the consequence of how lanky he was more than any actual effort. Although holding the guitar, she could see the weight of it this time in the flex of his bicep. There was a hint of a tattoo peeking out of his sleeve, and his fingernails were coated with shiny black polish. 

He tossed his hair aside to get it out of his eyes right at that moment and she dropped her gaze to her work, hoping he hadn’t caught her ogling him. As if this wasn’t awkward enough, seeing him again and not knowing if—well, he had been about to kiss her, that much was certain, but what if it had just been because they’d been dancing and he thought—

Heat crept up her face before she could help it and she looked up at him again through her bangs. His face was hidden behind the blue tips of his hair—so it was blue, then, and not a trick of the UV light. The blue of his hair, the black he seemed to be fond of, the bright white of the piece he was strumming against… the rips in his sweater the other night and in his jeans today… she bit her lip as an image came to mind. It might be a bit risky to paint lace and floral sprays on a guy's motorcycle. But he did say whatever she wanted. 

She bent her head and dutifully set about scrubbing the old paint off with her sandpaper. It was painfully quiet between the two of them and she wondered for a moment if the attraction she’d thought had been there had disappeared. Maybe since she hadn’t kissed him he thought—

When she glanced up again, he was watching her work with a small smile on his face, although as soon as he noticed her noticing he ducked back down behind his hair again. She couldn’t stop her pleased smile. Maybe it was still there after all. She decided to take a chance and cleared her throat. 

“Didn’t you say you were a composition major?” He chuckled and nodded, but didn’t add anything. One more try, she thought, and then if he still didn’t say anything she would just suffer in silence with him. “Have you written anything, then?” 

His finger twanged against the string and the gentle plinking he’d been doing stopped abruptly. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—was that a rude thing to ask?” She scrubbed at the spot she was working on harder than necessary in her embarrassment. Stupid, really, to ask someone something like that. Like asking a seamstress, “hey, whipped anything up lately?” Stupid, senseless, thoughtless—

“No, it’s okay. I have written something. I just wasn’t expecting—” he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, raking the ends of it over his ears. He took one of those breaths. Quick inhale, deep exhale, before he met her eyes again. “Would you want to hear it?” 

“If you’re offering.” Did she sound nonchalant? She hoped she sounded nonchalant. He held up a finger to ask her to wait and ducked back inside. 

When he came back a few moments later, he had a different guitar. Acoustic, this time, painted black and speckled with purple with a band logo off to the side. She looked at it curiously and a conflicting image for her painting popped into her head. But she shook her head and dismissed it. Too generic. She knew—based solely on his clothing choices if nothing else—that he wasn’t looking for generic. 

He slung the guitar around his shoulder and took a pick out from in between his teeth. Her eyes were drawn directly to his lips and it took her a few lingering seconds to tear her gaze away from them. When her eyes met his, he was giving her that same smirk as the other night. Caught. She stuck her tongue out at him as she felt a flush of heat creep up her cheeks and he laughed. 

“This is still a little rough, but it’s what I have so far.” He started picking at the strings, and a gentle, lyrical melody started up. She paused in her work to watch his fingers moving. The sure, confident way they traveled along the fretboard and flicked in and out to create different chords, the deep resonance when he strummed the strings by themselves. 

He shook his head and tucked his pick back in between his teeth before he kept going, softening the sound of it somewhat, and he changed something in the melody. It got faster, more playful, lighter. His eyes were closed as he worked and got lost in the music he was creating. 

She managed to close her mouth and go back to her own work. For a while, the only thing exchanged between them was the quiet guitar and the scrubbing of her sandpaper. 

He came to again when she started shaking the spray can of primer to start painting. He jolted as if she’d woken him from a dream and sat down with her, laying the guitar aside as if he felt guilty. 

“You don’t have to stop,” she said easily. “It’s nice to listen to.” 

He chuckled and took the pick out of his mouth to twirl it through his fingers instead. “I didn’t mean to get so absorbed.” He glanced up at her through his hair. “I’m just not great at the whole ‘talking’ thing.” 

“Really? I thought you did fine the other night,” she said, her tone teasing. 

He let out an embarrassed chuckle and ran a hand through his hair before he raked it back over his ears. “Truth is, I picked that place because I didn’t want to have to talk to you.” 

“Charming.” She was still teasing, poking fun at him, but he dropped his eyes to the spinning pick as if she’d hit some sort of nerve. “I get it, though,” she continued more seriously, “I wasn’t entirely looking forward to talking to you, either, so it worked out.” 

“No, I mean—” He huffed in his impatience, at himself, it seemed, more than her. “I mean I didn’t want to _have_ to talk to you. Not that I didn’t want…” His fingers nestled in his hair again as he groaned. She quirked her head to the side and he sighed. “Ce n’est rien, I just wanted to say… I’m glad it was you. That I didn’t have to talk to.” 

She smiled at the honest admission. “I’m glad it was you, too.” 

He glanced up, and her heart was sent fluttering all over again by the hope she saw written across his face. She shifted back into a teasing grin, hoping to put him at ease. 

“I mean, if I _had_ to talk to anyone, that is. You weren’t so bad.” She stuck her tongue out at him again before she untied her bandana and re-tied it over her nose and mouth before aiming her spray can at her target. When she’d finished, she set a timer on her phone to let it dry and stood to stretch. He stood with her. 

“Any ideas, yet?” he asked. 

“A few,” she said as she pulled her bandana down around her neck. “Although I have to admit they might be a bit more feminine than you might like.”

“I trust you.” 

She blushed at his earnest tone. He said these things so easily. She never would have guessed he had any issues with words.

"I'm thinking something black with teal and white kinda—" she gestured in the air above the tank—"flowing with the curves." 

"Feel it in the moment, right?" 

"That's right." 

"Then it's perfect." He shot her a lopsided grin before he glanced at her timer. “An hour for that? Really?” 

“It’s what the can says,” Marinette said, frowning as she glanced at the running clock. “And there’s three of those before two of the base color and then my detailing and then a clear coat.” 

He ran his hand through his hair. “You’ll be here all day at that rate.” 

“I can leave and come back if that’s better?” 

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” He looked back at the door to his apartment and swore under his breath. Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at his colorful word choice. When he turned back to her, he was touching his fingers to his lips, as if he were remembering the other night more than thinking about the next few hours. 

“That snake,” he muttered. 

“Don’t blame Sass,” Marinette started, but his smirk cut her off. 

“Oh, I absolutely blame Sass, but not for the reason you might think.” He glanced down at her timer again, then tapped his fingers against his lips in thought. “There’s a café just up the street.” He held his hand out for her and raised his eyebrows in a clear invitation, even though he hadn’t said as much. “Tikki and Sass can meet us there,” he offered when she hesitated. “If they’re not otherwise occupied, that is.” 

She glanced at her phone again. A café sounded better than sitting on the ground for the next 55 minutes. And he was right, if Tikki needed her, she’d be just up the street. Although the likelihood of that was admittedly slim to none. She laid her hand in his and his long fingers twined through hers easily before he gestured with his head and tugged her gently towards him until she was walking in tandem with him. 

Without her heels, he was quite a bit taller than her, but she could tell he was modifying his stride to keep pace with her. It reminded her so much of the way he’d danced with her that she felt what was becoming a familiar warmth creeping up her cheeks. When she snuck a glance up at him, she couldn’t help but smile when she noticed that he’d raked his hair over his ears again to hide how red they’d become. 

She silently thanked Tikki for being otherwise occupied and pulled a little closer to Luka, delighting when he smiled over at her and rubbed his thumb against her wrist to let her know he was perfectly okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> qu'est-ce que c'est: what is it  
> attaché: attached  
> nom de dieu: name of god (curse equivalent to "for Christ's sake" or "goddammit")  
> Bien sûr: of course  
> Ce n’est rien: It's nothing (forget it)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka and Marinette talk at the café and afterwards, Sass reveals he has big plans for his time in Paris with Tikki.

When they arrived at the café, Luka helped Marinette into a seat at a patio table, then disappeared inside. She assumed he was grabbing a server and settled in to wait for him. It was a beautiful day—sunny with a gentle breeze that played with the short strands of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. Wait. Her ponytail. She glanced down and froze when she remembered for the first time that she was wearing her painting outfit. 

Okay, she could fix this. She could… She looked down at herself again. No, there was no fixing this. Although, as the panic settled in her chest, she remembered Luka was wearing a band T-shirt and ripped jeans, so apparently he didn’t mind. And this wasn’t… Well, it really wasn’t anything. He had offered to take her somewhere to pass the time. That was all. She breathed a sigh of relief and settled into her chair to wait for him, fidgeting with her bandana around her neck until it looked more like a purposeful accessory. 

He came back holding two glasses of water in one hand, spreading his long fingers out to balance the weight, and a plate with two croissants. He set them down and sighed as he sat down. Stunned, she raised her eyebrows at him in a clear question. When he caught her expression, he chuckled nervously again. 

“I used to work here,” he explained easily. “They won’t mind if we sit out here.” 

“And they won’t mind if you swipe pastries?” 

He smirked, but didn’t confirm or deny, passing her a croissant instead. She took it warily. It smelled amazing—that familiar melted butter and cooked yeast smell she knew from years of helping her parents bake—and she was hungrier than she thought she’d be after the walk over. His smirk turned into a teasing grin as she hesitated. 

He swiped the other one for himself and took a bite, as if to prove to her that they were partners in crime, and she followed suit, meeting his eyes evenly as they shared their stolen prize. 

He nodded in satisfaction, then turned his head to look out at the street. There weren’t a lot of people out this afternoon, or if they were out, they had probably already chosen some other sunny spot to claim as their own. Marinette found herself watching him more than watching the people passing by. Every once in a while, the breeze would ruffle through his hair, lifting it away from his face, and he would close his eyes and hum in pleasure. 

"It's so quiet," he murmured after a while, smiling, "without that little shit around." 

Marinette managed not to choke on her croissant, although it was a very close call. She scrambled to grab her water and took a few gulps just to be sure. "You mean Sass?" she managed to ask when she could form words again. 

He grinned. "I mean Sass.” 

“I thought you liked him,” she said incredulously. 

He shrugged and leaned his elbows on the table. “As far as roommates go, I like him fine. He doesn’t seem to care about me one way or the other. But for someone who wasn’t looking to be around much, he’s just always _there_. And he and my sister Juleka get along swimmingly.” He rolled his eyes. “Mainly because they both like to gang up on me.”

“Quelle horreur!” Marinette giggled even as she feigned shock. “Does no one come to your rescue?” 

He grinned back when he caught her teasing tone. “Tikki, actually. When it comes to distracting Sass, there’s no one better. Although it does lead to some rather pointed remarks from Juleka.” His eyes widened as if he’d said something he hadn’t meant to and he looked up at her through his hair. 

She shouldn’t ask. She really shouldn’t. But the words were tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. “What kind of remarks?” 

He looked away and leaned back in his chair and raked his hair over his ears. She looked down at her hands, suddenly bashful and embarrassed for making him bashful and embarrassed. “You don’t have to answer that,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have asked, it’s none of my business—” 

“It’s okay. If I didn’t want to talk about it I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 

She stared at her hands on the table in front of her, unwilling to embarrass him further. But she still felt it when he shifted in his chair next to her. He tucked a finger under her chin and tipped her face back up gently, and he smiled at her when her eyes met his again. 

“Vraiment, c'est pas grave,” he murmured. His thumb stroked against her cheekbone softly before he pulled his hand away again and sighed. “Juleka thinks I need someone like that in my life, that’s all. Someone who makes me feel the way Sass feels about Tikki. Someone to go crazy for, who makes me light up when I get to be around them, someone who… when they’re around they make me a better person. That sort of thing.” 

“And you don’t want that?” 

“It’s not that I don’t, I’m just not looking for it, do you know what I mean?” He was still smiling, but his eyes were miles away. She tilted her head to consider him and he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Did something happen?” 

His eyes flicked back to hers and the way his face pinched for the briefest moment before it cleared was enough to tell her she’d hit another sore topic. But she didn’t shy away from him this time. 

“I guess that’s kind of the point,” he finally said. “Nothing ever happened. I’ve tried dating. I’ve thought before that maybe, you know, _this_ is what it feels like to be in love. _This time_ it’s different. But in the end…” He shrugged. “It never was. Or at least, that’s what they all told me. Some version of, ‘it’s like you’re here, you’re doing the motions, but you’re not in love with me.’” 

She nodded thoughtfully, and he sighed again. “I’m probably not making any sense.” 

“No, you are,” Marinette assured him, “I was just thinking I’ve kind of had the opposite problem lately.” 

He raised his eyebrows and she blushed before she looked down at her hands and continued. “It always seems like I’m the one chasing after someone. When I think I’m in love it’s like this… obsession. They’re all I think about. They’re the only person I want to be around, I learn everything I can about them, I smother them in gifts and hope they’ll know that means I care about them. But I think… I think I’m starting to realize I’ve never actually been in love, either.” 

That last revelation came out of nowhere. He was so easy to talk to that it had just slipped out of her. Something she’d been thinking of for a while but never said aloud. It wasn’t the one awful date that had made her swear off dating, it was all of them. The whole terrible slew of relationships that went wrong because she got too invested too quickly. Her eyes bounced back up to his and he was watching her in much the same way she had been watching him. 

“Well, aren’t we a pair?” he asked, a small smirk playing around the edges of his lips. 

“Aren’t we just,” she agreed, her voice slipping out barely above a whisper.

He looked down at his forgotten croissant and took another bite before he turned to face the street again, releasing her from the intensity of that look he’d been giving her. She wanted to finish her own croissant, but she found that her appetite had vanished. Instead she picked it apart with her fingers, until she was left with scraps of pastry on her plate and melted butter all over her hands. She wiped them off on her pant leg, suddenly unconcerned with what she looked like. 

She’d been doing it all over again, she realized, with Luka. Throwing herself headfirst into what was probably at best a passing attraction on his part and not giving any thought to whether or not he wanted to be chased. Whether or not he even liked her back. 

With 10 minutes left on her timer, he offered her a hand up out of her chair, and she took it, noticing the way her heart fluttered and how he didn’t hesitate to twine his fingers through hers again, but resolutely deciding to do absolutely nothing about it.

* * *

Marinette was thoughtful and quiet when Luka walked her back to the apartment, although he wasn’t much help by way of conversation. He was content to walk in silence with her, his fingers threaded through hers, her small frame tucked into his side. 

Something had clicked into place for him when he’d admitted he’d never been in love. He had suddenly realized there was a “before” tacked onto that now. And this time, he was absolutely certain. 

His heart had been a stuttering, pounding mess all through that conversation. He’d almost admitted that Juleka had implied that Marinette could be his someone. He’d had to force himself to take his eyes off her to make sure he wasn’t intimidating her. Every time he’d made her laugh was like a small prize tucked away in his memory. And yet he still felt entirely at ease with her, like being in a safe harbor after being tossed around on merciless waves.

Maybe he was waxing poetic. Maybe it was best he was keeping his thoughts to himself for once. He squeezed her hand lightly and she squeezed back, although she was still distracted. He hoped he hadn’t upset her with anything he’d said. 

When they got back to his bike, Marinette pulled away from him and dove right back into her project. Although it only took her a few minutes to get the gas can covered in its second coat of primer and then she glanced up at him guiltily from behind her bandana. 

“I think I’m going to sketch something out for a while. Can you send Tikki out? If she’s not… you know… occupied.” 

He sensed the dismissal in her words and nodded. Maybe he had upset her. He grabbed his acoustic on the way in and found Tikki and Sass curled up together on the couch watching a movie. Sass almost looked asleep, with his face buried in Tikki’s neck and his arm wrapped around her waist protectively, but they both looked up when he walked in. 

“How’s it going?” Tikki asked, pulling away from Sass to sit up. He followed suit, but wrapped his arms back around her middle as soon as they were both upright and laid his chin on her shoulder. 

“Yeah, how is it going?” Sass echoed, although his sly tone made Luka think he wasn’t asking at all about the gas tank. 

“She wanted me to send Tikki out,” Luka said, turning to hide his disappointment and to set his guitar in its stand. Behind him, he could almost feel the two of them sharing a glance. He kept his back turned and went towards the fridge, grabbing a soda as casually as he could and popping it open before he faced them again. 

Tikki twisted to kiss Sass on the tip of his nose before she hopped up and flounced out the door. Sass sighed and shook his head before he looked over at Luka. 

“What’d you do?” 

Luka shrugged. “I don’t know. It was going great. We were laughing, and talking, and then… I don’t know. She got quiet.” 

“Good quiet or bad quiet?” 

“Just… quiet.” He shrugged again and took a sip of his drink. Sass let out his breath in a slow hiss as he thought. It occurred to Luka that a little over a week ago he couldn’t have fathomed talking like this with Sass. Although also a little over a week ago he couldn’t have imagined needing to talk with anyone about a girl he was head over heels for. 

“Okay, I shouldn’t tell you this,” Sass started. He braced his hands on his knees and pushed himself up to stand and face Luka. “Tikki would kill me for it. But she’s actually the one who suggested this… whole thing.” He waved his hand to gesture to the front where the bike was. When he looked back at Luka, his dark eyes swore Luka to secrecy. “Because Marinette said she really liked you and hoped to see you again.”

“Well, maybe actually talking with me changed her mind,” Luka said, hearing the despondency in his voice but not caring enough to correct it. 

Sass groaned. “Would you get your head out of your ass for two seconds? This girl is crazy about you after, what, a few hours of knowing you? And you’re crazy about her. So you’re going to stop hiding in here, you’re going to get back out there, and you’re going to talk to her. Like a normal person. And then you’re going to invite her on a date. A real date. Hell, a double date with me and Tikki if it has to be, but a date. Got it?” 

Luka was stunned into nodding. Sass’s speech was riddled with those drawn out sibilants that indicated he was annoyed. Truly annoyed. On Luka’s behalf. And he’d offered to go out of his way to help. He’d already gone out of his way, Luka realized, by setting this all up and making it look like his idea. Taking the blame, even, for something that he had done for Tikki in the first place. 

“Why do you care?” Luka asked, not unkindly. Sass stiffened at the implication and fixed his posture, rolling his shoulders back to relax them so he didn’t look so ready to strike anymore. 

“I don’t.” 

“You do, though.” 

Sass caught Luka’s eyes again. Another secret. Another promise. Luka nodded to let him know he understood and Sass's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Do you believe in second chances?” 

The question took Luka off guard. “As in, like life, or in general?” 

“In general,” Sass said smoothly, although Luka caught the shift in his tone that said he meant the opposite. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

Sass blew out a sigh of relief. “Me, too. And Tikki’s mine. She’s…” Sass turned his head to where Luka knew Marinette and Tikki were standing at that very moment. A smile spread across Sass’s face before he seemed to be able to help it and his crisp demeanor melted. He shook his head as he turned back to Luka, his scales settling back into place as he did. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.” 

Luka sputtered out the drink he’d been in the middle of taking, then set the can down and leveled Sass with a look. “You’re serious?” 

“I didn’t buy a ticket home,” Sass admitted. “I don’t plan on going back. If I marry her, I’m an American citizen. We can go back to America and be happy together, build a life together, and that’s all I want.” 

“What about… je ne sais, your parents, your family? Won’t they wonder what happened to you?”  
  
“Better they don’t know,” Sass muttered darkly. “They’d disown me anyways.”

“They know you’re here, though, right?” Luka racked his brain for any previous mention of Sass’s home life. He couldn’t think of anything. This was the first time they’d really talked. 

"Technically I’m not here at all. I don’t exist.”

“No, no… you had to have a passport. An ID, a visa, you had to be a student… you’re a student, aren’t you?” Sass shifted uncomfortably. Luka swore as colorfully as he knew how. “How did you even get here?” 

“It doesn’t matter and you don’t need to know,” Sass said firmly. 

“Does Juleka know?” 

“Tikki doesn’t even know.” 

“Pourquoi…?” Luka ran a hand through his hair. All of his questions were running into each other, creating a train wreck in his brain that made him incapable of asking even one. After a few sputtering starts, he finally settled on, “What does this have to do with me and Marinette?” 

For the first time since Luka had known him, Sass looked genuinely nervous. Almost repentant. He bowed his head and wouldn’t look at Luka. His shoulders slumped. The venom seemed drained out of him, like he was tired of carrying it. Glad to be rid of it. 

“I don’t want her to hate me,” Sass muttered, “when she finds out. If I help you…” He half-shrugged. “That’s at least one good thing I’ve done. Should… you know, balance out…” 

Luka took a moment to digest everything he’d heard. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably. The more he thought about it, the less it made sense. He’d given up his home, his family, his country, his identity, possibly even his freedom if he were caught… For Tikki. All for Tikki. Because he wanted to be with her. 

“You’re insane,” Luka finally managed to say. 

Instantly, Sass’s scales snapped back into place and he stood, straight and proud in front of Luka, ready to strike all over again. He settled somewhat when he noticed that Luka wasn’t making fun of him. He was pointing out the obvious. 

“You love her that much?” 

Sass nodded, still wary of Luka’s reaction. 

“What if she says no?” 

“Then she says no,” was Sass’s instant reply. “I’ve made my peace with that already.” 

Luka took another minute to process. Outside, he could hear Tikki saying something to Marinette, although he couldn’t make out any of the words. The tone, though, was similar to the one Sass had used with him earlier. 

He wondered what he would do if he were in Sass’s situation. If he and Marinette lived continents away from each other. If they were forbidden to be together. He started when he realized he’d been envisioning a future with her before he even asked himself that. He’d skipped right over “if we were together.” Like it was a given. Like they were already as close as Sass and Tikki were. 

He knew without a doubt that if he had any chance to be with Marinette, he would take it. He should take it.

“You’re sure this is what you want to do?” Luka asked, measuring his voice to make sure Sass understood the gravity of his question. 

“I’m sure. I’ve already made my choice.” Sass said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he nodded as if it were a done deal. 

Luka nodded back. “You have a ring already?” 

Sass’s bright white grin split across his face. “You’ll help, then?” 

"Dieu nous préserve... I’m in.”

Both of them jumped when the door opened and Tikki walked in. She looked between the two boys, both of them staring at her guiltily, and her eyebrows went almost all the way up into her pixie fringe. 

“What’s going on in here?” she asked, smiling. 

“What went on out there?” Sass answered slyly. 

Tikki shrugged and floated back over to nestle into Sass’s side. Luka snuck a glance at him as she happily nuzzled into his neck and he could’ve sworn Sass was floating, too. 

“Oh, you know, girl talk,” Tikki said breezily. Her eyes slid over to Luka’s and she smiled. “She’s got a sketch for you to look at. You should get back out there.” 

Luka couldn’t help the dreamy smile that spread across his face, and he knew he probably looked a lot like Sass whenever he talked about Tikki. 

Guess that meant he was insane, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quelle horreur: How awful  
> Vraiment, c'est pas grave: really, it's not serious (it's okay)  
> je ne sais: I don't know  
> Pourquoi: For what (Why)  
> Dieu nous préserve: God preserve us (Heaven help us)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Juleka teases him about 'his muse,' Luka confesses that he's written music about Marinette, and although she knows what he means when he says it, she has no idea how to respond.

Luka went out and found Marinette in the same spot he’d left her, although now she had a sketchbook splayed across her lap and her head was bent over it. 

“Hey,” Luka started, settling into place across from her. Her head snapped up and a bright red blush spread across her face. 

“Hi.” 

“Tikki said you wanted me to look at something?” 

She hesitated before she passed her sketchbook over to him. When the pages settled into his hands, he ran a hand over her work, feeling the impressions her pencils had left. She was incredibly talented. She’d recreated his gas tank from a few different angles and redrawn her idea on each one. On top was a prominent bunch of flowers, blue in the center and tipped with white. Behind the flowers, she’d drawn a delicate fishnet lace that he had no idea how she planned to recreate in paint. Here and there, she’d drawn deliberate rips, and on the sides, there were swirls that followed the curves of the tank like she’d said before. 

“What do you think?” she asked hesitantly. 

“I… Marinette, this is…” He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. “This is… extraordinary.” 

He popped his head back up to look at her and she was biting her lip, anxiously waiting for his appraisal. He lost all train of thought when her lip slipped out from between her teeth and she smiled. He handed the sketchbook back to her, still entirely lost for words. 

On the ground next to her, her timer went off. Must be time for that last coat. She picked up the spray can and started shaking it, but he interrupted her. 

“Do you think I could give it a try?” he asked, although it didn’t sound like his voice or feel like his words. He almost felt like he was outside of himself, watching as she shrugged and handed him the can of paint. 

“It’s your bike,” she said casually. 

The can was in his hand, and she hesitated before she untied the bandana from around her neck and offered it to him as well. His fingers trembled as he accepted it, although he hoped his face was doing something a little more normal. He cleared his throat and prayed that the next words out of his mouth were something clever. 

“Um, yeah, so if I screw up, it’s no big deal, right?” 

Nope, that wasn’t anywhere near clever. But she hid a giggle behind her hand and blushed before she shrugged to agree with him. He brought the bandana up around his face to hide what was probably a lovestruck, dopey grin. 

He tried to take a deep, calming breath, which was when he realized that calming down at that current moment was impossible. The bandana smelled like whatever perfume she was wearing. Something light and floral with a citrusy background. Every breath he took in just intoxicated him more. He was getting lightheaded and he wasn’t even painting yet. 

He glanced up and she was watching him curiously. Probably wondering why he hadn’t started. He gave the can a couple more shakes, then aimed it at the gas tank and prayed for steady hands. 

When he’d finished, he handed the bandana back to her first, then the can of primer. The original dark blue paint that was underneath looked like it was frosted over. Marinette set her timer again. And again it was just the two of them. And again he could think of nothing to say to this amazing woman, only this time it was exacerbated by having her scent still lingering on and around him. He cleared his throat again, but no words came out. 

This was going to be a long few hours. 

* * *

Marinette had no clue what happened between when Luka went inside and when he came back out, but suddenly he was completely tongue-tied. He could barely look at her without raking his hair over his ears and he was smiling like he didn’t know how to stop. They took turns adding the base coat, and she had a shiny black surface to work on by the time they were done, but both times she’d handed him her bandana, he’d looked at her like she was handing him some priceless artifact. 

She bent her head to her work with Tikki’s lecture ringing in her ears. He didn’t seem to mind her lack of conversation. At one point he must’ve ducked back inside to grab his guitar again because she vaguely registered the music. 

Tikki hadn’t been a fan of her idea to do nothing about her attraction to Luka. She’d urged Marinette to go after him, to tell him how she felt, to make some sort of move, and when Marinette had steadily refused, Tikki had actually raised her voice to tell Marinette she thought she was being stubborn and that Luka deserved to know. 

Maybe Tikki was right. She should probably at least tell him that she liked him, or ask to see him again in a more official setting. Not trying at all felt so counterintuitive. But she really wanted to know what this was between them. To do the smart thing for once and wait before throwing herself into the deep end of a new relationship. So instead of thinking about his kind smile or his soft eyes or his slender fingers, she focused on steadying her hands to paint the delicate lines of the lace and the outlines of the flowers. 

“Do you mind if I take a look?” he asked after a while, breaking her out of her concentration. 

She took a breath and pulled her brush away carefully before blinking out of her trance and looking up at him. He’d set his guitar aside again and had a notebook lying open beside him with a pen, his headphones, and his phone strewn out on top of it to keep his place. He’d been writing, then? She hadn’t even noticed. She nodded before she stood and stretched, surprised at how much light had disappeared while she’d been working and how stiff she felt from sitting hunched over her painting. 

She took a few steps away to shake her legs out and he moved to look at what she’d been working on. She’d started in on the white of the flowers, and his fingers hovered over her work, following her lines as if he could feel them in the air. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said simply, but when he met her eyes again, she knew he meant it. 

“Thank you,” she murmured back, then smiled when she caught sight of his notebook again. “Do you mind if I take a look?” She pointed at it and he followed her direction. 

“Uh… yeah. It’s… I mean, it’s just scribbles and notes, but… yeah, sure.” He swallowed visibly and moved again to grab it before he stood with her and handed it over. 

He hadn’t been kidding about the scribbling. What he hadn’t scratched out in big, black blobs, he’d written in almost illegible scrawls. She could only make out a word here and there, and one he’d circled several different times. 

“Is that the title? Miraculeuse?” she asked, pointing to it. 

“Uh, no, I mean, I’m not really a lyricist, I’m just, you know…” He fiddled out to the side as if he were playing his guitar and let out an embarrassed chuckle. “But... if there were a title, I guess that’d be it.” 

He had a few lines of music notes written down, and she hummed what she could make out. “Is it the same one you showed me earlier?” 

He didn’t answer right away, and she looked up to make sure he was still there. He shook his head when she caught his eye. 

“No, it’s just…” He blinked at her, dumbstruck it seemed, before he took another one of those breaths. Were they calming to him, maybe? After a slow exhale, he looked up at her through his hair. “It’s just something I thought of, watching you paint.” 

She blinked back at him. “You… wrote this about me?” 

He nodded and looked away as he ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know anything about drawing, you know? To me… that’s… what you do… it’s…” Another calming breath. She felt her heart start skipping in her throat as she waited for him to find his words. “You took something that I don’t even think about most of the time, and you made it beautiful. You made it art. It’s nothing short of a miracle, if you ask me.” 

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks before she could stop it. As she handed the notebook back to him, she noticed someone walking straight towards them in the background. 

She was tall and slender, with black hair like Luka’s except she had purple streaks instead of blue that peeked through when the breeze caught it. 

When she reached them, she threw her arm over Luka’s shoulders and hung onto him casually. Luka shoved her off, although there wasn’t any meanness in the gesture. Marinette’s eyes flicked back and forth between them. 

“You must be Juleka,” she said finally, when she’d put the pieces together. 

“And you must be Marinette,” Juleka echoed; her smirk was identical to Luka’s. "I recognize you from the stupid look my brother has on his face." 

She elbowed Luka in the ribs, grinning. He chuckled nervously at Marinette, then shot Juleka a look, rubbing his side.

“Has he played you the song yet? Please tell me you played her the song.” Juleka looped her arm through Luka’s and leaned her chin on his shoulder, blinking up at him with a pleading pout. Marinette hid a giggle behind her hand as Luka rolled his eyes. 

“He hasn’t played it yet,” Marinette answered her, “but what he has so far seems like it’ll be really good.” She pointed to the journal in Luka’s hands and Juleka’s eyes followed her direction before they lit up with menacing glee. 

“Another one? Already? Come on, let me see!” 

She reached for it and Luka tugged it out of her hands. There was a brief battle between them, with Luka holding Juleka back any way he could and keeping the journal away from her and Juleka reaching every which way to get at it. He couldn’t even hold it above his head because she was just as tall as he was. He was winning, though, by a slim margin. 

Finally, Juleka sighed as she relented, but punched him hard on the shoulder in irritation. 

“N’importe-quoi. But you’ll show it to me later, right?” 

"Même pas en rêve." 

Juleka stuck her tongue out at him, then moved towards the door. She smiled back at Marinette as she passed by him. “Good to finally put a face to your muse,” she muttered in Luka’s ear, just barely loud enough for Marinette to catch it. 

Luka reached back and swatted her with the notebook and Juleka cackled as she ducked away and slipped inside. Marinette raised her eyebrows at him as he raked his hair over his ears for what must’ve been the millionth time in the few hours they’d spent together. 

“What was all that about?” 

“Nothing. She just—well, she likes to tease me and she’s had a lot more ammo recently.” 

“She called me your muse,” she said, feeling her blush creep up her cheeks. 

“She got that from Sass. I told you, it’s been a nightmare, living with those two.” 

Rather than press the issue, Marinette sat back down to her work. He hesitated before he sat with her again. As she picked up her brush and lowered her eyes to her painting, he spoke up again. 

“They're not that far off, though, to be honest." 

She glanced up, if only to show him she was listening, and he continued after a pause. 

"I haven't been able to write anything for… I don't know, months I guess, and then you show up. And my head has been so full of music ever since I can't get it down fast enough." 

Her hands were shaking. She took one of his breaths—quick inhale, deep exhale, but it didn’t help her at all. It just made her think of how right before he’d leaned over to kiss her he’d taken a breath just like that. Which only made her realize that he’d been  _ nervous  _ but he’d leaned in anyways. 

She kept her eyes down as she pulled her brush away from her work and swirled it into the blue paint that was up next, blending it with the white she’d been working with so she could create a subtle shade between the white tips of the petals and the deep blue of the center of the flower. 

She should tell him. Shouldn’t she? He’d been more than honest with her. 

“That’s probably a weird thing to say to someone, isn’t it? ‘I hear music when I look at you.’” He chuckled nervously and paused until she glanced up again, and when their eyes caught he continued. “But it’s the truth. You’re the song that’s been playing in my head since the moment we met.”

She probably went some shade of crimson based on how hot her cheeks felt. The bass from the club was back in her chest, but only because her heart was beating so hard it was thudding against her ribcage. 

That sounded like a declaration. Of love. Which made no sense because he’d said he’d never been in love… had he said ‘before’? She couldn’t remember when her eyes were locked on his and he was smiling at her like they were talking about the weather and not that he was inspired by her. That he was in love with her. 

Abruptly, she stood and pretended a need to stretch before she shook her hands out. They were still trembling and she wouldn’t be able to get any work done until they stopped but talking with Luka was having some sort of effect on her flighty nervous system and all she wanted to do was run away from him, but at the same time she wanted to fall into him, but at the same time she wanted to scream and laugh and cry and—

Luka’s hand fell on her shoulder and gave a small squeeze, which simultaneously sent butterflies fluttering through her and also calmed her spiraling thoughts. She didn’t know how he did that. 

“That was forward of me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She shook her head, wanting to tell him he hadn’t, but her tongue was frozen. He was standing so close and his hand on her shoulder was sending a wave of warmth through her. She looked at the gas tank on the ground, so close to being finished, and resolutely pushed her panic away until she had time to think about what it meant. 

Luka seemed to sense the calm that washed over her, because he took his hand off her shoulder, but his eyebrows knitted together as if he were confused at the sudden change. There was a little panicked Marinette still banging her fists against the inside of Marinette’s skull somewhere, and when she was alone with Tikki that panicked Marinette would probably come back full force, but for now, she was focused on the task in front of her. 

“I should get this finished,” she managed to say, and he nodded, already pulling away from her to let her sit back down. 

She finished up just as the sun started setting and he said a quiet thank you before he offered her his hand to shake and a warm smile. Sass paid her, throwing pointed glances at Luka the whole time, and Tikki linked arms with Marinette as they walked away together. Tikki was blowing kisses over her shoulder to Sass, but Marinette kept her eyes on her shoes as her paint kit knocked against her knees. 

It had been a long, confusing day, and she was more than willing to let it end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miraculeuse: Miraculous  
> N’importe-quoi: no matter what (whatever)  
> Même pas en rêve: Not even in your dreams (not a chance in hell)


End file.
